Honesty
by jennytork
Summary: A cursed Crowley shows up at the Bunker, in need of the Winchesters' help. Hard to be the king of Hell when you can't lie.


HONESTY

Dean Winchester had just sat down with his own burger and was chuckling at his younger brother Sam's clear delight and their angel brother Cas grumping that it all tasted of molecules again. He had just taken a bite when the unwelcome voice purred:

"Hello, boys."

Cas's angel bade was suddenly in his hand and pointed at the intruder's neck as he slowly rose from the table. "Crowley," he snarled. "How did you get in here?"

"Put that away, Feathers," Crowley sighed. "I'm not here to fight. Unpleasant as the thought is, I need your help."

"Answer Cas," Dean ordered. "How did you get in here?"

Crowley shrugged. "I lived here - albeit in chains - for the better part of a year. So I knew where it was."

"But the wards-" Sam began.

"Again, I lived here. Long as I'm not in a trap or chains, I can enter and leave. The wards recognise me as an inhabitant."

Cursing, Dean shook his head.

Sam frowned. "You're being awfully truthful for a demon."

Crowley groaned. "Yes, well... that's what I need your help for. Mother Dearest and I had a - difference of opinion, shall we say - and she cursed me."

"I don't know," Dean found himself grinning. "I kind of like him better this way."

Crowley glared at him. "Bad for business, and hard to run Hell when you can't bloody _lie!"_

"Why us?" Sam asked.

Crowley waved his hand toward the library. "Resources. Somewhere in all this, there has to be a counter-charm to get this bloody thing off my throat."

Dean's eyes widened as he noticed Crowley was wearing his greatcoat, with the massive collar popped up as far as it would go. "Show us."

"No. Now we need to-"

"Crowley," Dean said, his voice becoming dangerous. "We can't help you unless we know what it is we're trying to remove from you!"

Growling something about "bloody annoying twats", Crowley shrugged out of his coat, and three sharp intakes of breath were drawn.

On the side of Crowley's neck rested a finely-worked golden scarab. It was about two inches long, and its six golden legs were gripping Crowley's skin so tight they were leaving indentations. Its tiny eyes flared green in time with what would have been his pulse, if the demon had possessed one.

"What the hell..." Dean reached out and tugged on the golden creature.

The green eyes flared red and the beetle screeched. Crowley's eyes went blood-red as well, and he screamed in clear agony. Shocked, Dean released the creature and grabbed onto Crowley as his knees buckled, keeping him upright as the king of Hell breathed raggedly, his eyes slowly draining back to their human brown. The scarab settled back down against Crowley's skin, eyes pulsing green once more.

"Well," Cas sighed heavily. _"That_ didn't work."

Sam sat down at the table again. "Come on, Crowley, sit down. Recover for a few minutes while we finish lunch. Then we'll get to researching that thing."

SPN HONESTY SPN

Crowley was notoriously tight-lipped unless he wanted to show his own superiority, but Sam had been listening and had heard him begin to start to direct the research into the direction he wanted it to go, until Dean had interrupted him.

Crowley complained when Sam insisted on finishing lunch, but then Sam said calmly, "Tell us what you know about the scarab on your neck."

And the truth came out. The golden creature had been created in antiquity on order of a Pharaoh who had suspected an advisor of treason. When it had been used and nothing had been found, the Pharaoh had thought it faulty and affixed it to another of his advisors – who truly _had_ been plotting treason.

The fact that it was causing Crowley pain and could not be removed? Well, that was Rowena's special little tweak to the spell. And that was what Crowley needed the Men of Letters library to break. Once he could remove it, all would be well, he reasoned.

When he ran down, Crowley noticed Cas was not eating. "What's the matter with you?" he asked. "Squirrel's cooking is pretty good, so why aren't you eating?"

Dean and Sam both blinked – they knew that was Crowley's true opinion of Dean's cooking, since he was under that spell. Neither had expected that, though.

Cas repeated his often-heard complaint about molecules, and Crowley snorted, pushing the angel's plate back toward him. "Tamp your Grace down a bit and try it again."

The expression on Cas's face a few seconds later was one of delighted surprise. "How did you know to do that?" he gasped around a mouthful of burger. "It tastes like burgers again!"

Crowley's lips twitched – he was visibly fighting it this time – but he said, "When we were partners a few years back, I noticed you wouldn't eat even though you clearly enjoyed it when you did, and I figured it was your Grace interfering with things. When you were more powered up, you enjoyed your food less."

That was when Dean noticed that Sam's plate was empty and Sam was no longer there. "Where'd you go?" he raised his voice a bit.

"Library!" came the return call. "Got a hunch!"

"Who's going to help me clean up, then?"

"I will," Cas said around his final mouthful. "Crowley can assist Sam."

Crowley got up and headed toward the library, but Dean frowned as he caught the mumbled, "Would rather help Squirrel, but fine."

 _Now why would he rather do that?_ Dean wondered.

An hour later, Sam looked up from his books and broke into a broad grin. "I think I found it."

SPN HONESTY SPN

What Sam had found was a revealing spell. Dean – who was best at spellwork out of the three of them – cast it and the name of the curse over the scarab was revealed.

Once they had the name, it was only a matter of a few minutes to locate the counter-curse. The problem was, the spell components had to be incredibly fresh, which meant that the ingredients stored in the Bunker's myraid rooms wouldn't do.

To save time, they split up. Crowley insisted on going with Dean, which led to a few moments of argument back and forth before Crowley just walked over and slid into the front passenger seat of the Impala, crossing his arms and visually daring Dean to remove him.

As they drove away, Dean asked, "What are we going after again?"

"The eye of a wild freshwater octopus," Crowley answered.

"Fre—those don't exist!"

"Most people think demons don't exist, either," Crowley pointed out.

"All right, then." After Crowley navigated for a few moments, Dean asked him point blank, "So where did you get this heroic streak you've been showing lately? For that matter, why do you suddenly want to do things with me, be my best friend? It's a little confusing!"

Crowley muttered something, and Dean told him to repeat it. When he did, Dean nearly drove off the road.

"It's because I carry Sam's blood in my veins. All of it – stems from that."

"You – what? Since when?" When it hit him a second later, he found himself speaking in unison with his demon passenger. "The Trials."

Dean cursed softly, shaking his head. "A lot makes sense now."

"We're here," Crowley said. He pointed to a brackish lake surrounded by a copse of trees.

They walked over to the lake and Crowley threw something in the water to attract the creature. As it appeared, Dean drew his knife and walked over to the lake, only to have a tentacle reach out and slide around his ankles, knocking him from his feet and into the lake.

Crowley stood, frozen, and watched the water. "Come on, Dean...come on..."

Dean broke the water's surface with a gasp, struggling toward shore. Crowley only had time to bark out a wordless yell before a tentacle wrapped around his neck and pulled him back under.

"Oh, bloody _hell,_ Moose is gonna kill me..." Crowley growled, moving quickly to the edge of the lake and drawing the sword Cas had given him.

Dean reappeared again and Crowley leaned forward, stabbing the visible tentacle that was trying to wrap around the hunter's head.

With a screech of pain the creature let go and Dean staggered to shore, one tentacle gripped tightly in his hand. Crowley took hold of it and added his demonic strength, and the octopus was soon on shore and quickly dispatched.

After the eyes were removed and deposited in a jar Sam had given them, Dean collapsed behind the wheel and sat there for a moment before turning to Crowley. "What the hell was that? Why didn't you come in and help me?"

Crowley shrugged. "Can't swim."

"You can't- you're over four hundred years old! What do you mean you can't swim? How could you have gone for that long without learning how to swim?"

Crowley fixed him with a glare. "I am older than you know. But when I was growing up, knowing how to swim branded you a witch! Given who my mother is, I'm sure you can understand why I didn't want that particular bit of bother!"

"You have a point," Dean conceded after a moment of shocked silence, starting the Impala.

SPN HONESTY SPN

Dean said the chant as Sam mixed the spell ingredients together and while they steeped, Dean took a much-needed shower.

Cas made the tea when it was done and told Crowley to sit down while he drank it just in case anything – dramatic – happened.

Crowley agreed with a nod and sat down. His expression when he took that first large gulp was so priceless that Dean had to immortalise it with a quick phone photo. Crowley just glared at him and then slowly but steadily drank the rest of the tea down, finishing with a gag that threatened to return it all onto the Bunker floor. Thankfully, everything stayed where it was supposed to.

Ten seconds passed. Fifteen. Thirty. Then the scarab's wings spread as if it was stretching. The pulsing green eyes flared blue, then vanished into dead gold. One by one, the six legs released with audible clicks.

The small gold bug toppled into Dean's waiting palm. He swung his arm out and flipped his hand over, and the bug fell into the small curse box that Sam had waiting. As Dean slid his hand out of the way, Sam closed the box with a loud clap. The lock and sigils flared golden-white for a second, then settled down into the appearance of interesting filigree on a plain wooden box.

It was over.

Dean pointed at Crowley. "Lie to me."

Crowley stood up and straightened his clothing imperiously. He tilted his chin up and met Dean's eyes. His voice was rock-steady as he said, "I fully intended to let that creature drown you."

And then he was gone.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "Like we'd know if he was lying about that or not." He frowned at his big brother. "Why are you grinning?"

"It worked. He's free of the curse." Dean began to gather the dishes from the spellwork and carry them to the kitchen.

"You seem very certain of that," Cas pointed out.

"I am."

"How?" Sam asked.

"Because he couldn't let me drown, any more than you could."

Sam and Cas looked at each other and then Sam asked, "Uh, Dean – are you all right?"

Dean's grin only grew.

END


End file.
